


The Sweetest Burn

by Violetwylde



Series: Martin RPF [5]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Beard Burn, Bearded Martin, Cunnilingus, F/M, Rimming, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 11:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwylde/pseuds/Violetwylde
Summary: When asked for a prompt for a beard burn inspired ficlet, I received this gem: THIGHS. ALWAYS THIGHS. BONUS POINTS FOR BETWEEN THE CHEEKS. RIMMING OH GOD PLEASE.How could I say no?





	The Sweetest Burn

When you rub your thighs together, heat blooms and you hiss. The burn is as fresh in your memories as it is on your skin. 

It was an amazing contrast—the prickle of his whiskers, the heat of his mouth, the silken slide of his tongue. You can still feel the decadent way his lips had closed around your clit. The way he’d suckled. The rasp of his beard against your wet cunt as he ate you out. It makes you squeeze your thighs even tighter—chasing the ghost of his lapping tongue. And as you squirm in your seat, you remember the scrape of his scruff as he’d moved lower. 

He’d pushed your legs up, told you to hold them, and ran his thickly stubbled cheek along the delicate skin where ass met thigh. You’d cupped your hands around the backs of your knees, kept yourself exposed and vulnerable, as he kissed—sharp pricks and soft lips—lower and lower. The flicker of tongue, the scratch of hair, the deep rumble of satisfaction as you cried out. He had nibbled and licked and sucked—he’d eaten your asshole like a harvest feast. He took the curves of your ass in his hands, buried his face between your cheeks, and shook his head like a goddamn animal. He had left you raw and red, aching from the burn and the desperate need to be fucked. And when he’d pulled up onto his knees, and looked at you with burning indigo eyes and the gleam of spit and pussy juice in his ginger beard, it was all you could do just to plead, _fuck me_. 

You remember the way he had growled as he took his fat cock in hand, lined himself up, and slammed home. The burn had flared as his sweat-slick body moved, every thrust making the pain spark bright and sizzle. You skate your hand up your neck, tracing another momento—blotchy, pink and red. He’d buried his face there, set his teeth in to the muscle, and grunted as he’d pound-pound-pounded away. 

The color will fade, and the sweet sting along with it. But you’ll never forget the way you trembled as you came—the way you arched and keened and clenched his waist between your burning thighs.


End file.
